Поворот винта

           Iwasconfrontedatlast,asneveryet,withalltheriskattachedevennowtosoundingmyownhorridnote.Irememberinfactthataswepushedintohislittlechamber,wherethebedhadnotbeensleptinatallandthewindow,uncoveredtothemoonlight,madetheplacesoclearthattherewasnoneedofstrikingamatch—IrememberhowIsuddenlydropped,sankupontheedgeofthebedfromtheforceoftheideathathemustknowhowhereally,astheysay,“had”me.Hecoulddowhatheliked,withallhisclevernesstohelphim,solongasIshouldcontinuetodefertotheoldtraditionofthecriminalityofthosecaretakersoftheyoungwhoministertosuperstitionsandfears.He“had”meindeed,andinacleftstick;forwhowouldeverabsolveme,whowouldconsentthatIshouldgounhung,if,bythefaintesttremorofanoverture,Iwerethefirsttointroduceintoourperfectintercourseanelementsodire?No,no:itwasuselesstoattempttoconveytoMrs.Grose,justasitisscarcelylesssotoattempttosuggesthere,how,inourshort,stiffbrushinthedark,hefairlyshookmewithadmiration.Iwasofcoursethoroughlykindandmerciful;never,neveryethadIplacedonhislittleshouldershandsofsuchtendernessasthosewithwhich,whileIrestedagainstthebed,Iheldhimtherewellunderfire.Ihadnoalternativebut,informatleast,toputittohim.

           “Youmusttellmenow—andallthetruth.